Families are Weird
No venue is as fertile for backstabbing and lies.
Our homes bear witness to the passage of unremarkable individuals who we, unfortunately, have blood relationships with.
There they are in the morning…out of a sci-fi movie. Warts and all. Forget about love and acceptance, this has ‘BLACKMAIL’ written all over it!
It’s 2020 and it would be just your luck to be cooped up, during a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, with the most uncivilized, repugnant, and shameless people in the world.
BUT…
Why do we put up with each other? Why is it, that despite numerous access for escape, we still come back to the same dinner table, to the same old street, to the same old driveway?
Why?
Could it be that we really do LOVE our families? Those same people who push our buttons like well-seasoned pianists?
The answer seems to be: YES.
For though we profess profound hatred, we can just as easily exhibit overwhelming love. Yes, the same folks who we literally want to strangle the life out of, are the very ones we give our lives to.
It’s more than Stockholm Syndrome. We love them immensely and irrationally– and therapists are only too happy. For we would readily dedicate our mortal bodies to stop a speeding bullet from ever challenging their earthly existence. The most dangerous words a stranger could utter would be vile words against our family. For very soon, his wife will become a widow.
The family, it seems, is the recipient of both ‘no greater hate’ and ‘no greater love’.
So, how much do we really know about these people? These people we love to smack right across the mouth but hate to lose. How much do we know about what each one is going through?
The hope is that we spend our remaining time here on earth getting to know the different characters inside our homes:
The father, who, when asked for an allowance, pretends to be dead.
The mother, who wrestles with diapers seasoned with secret herbs & spices.
The teenager, who plots against “boomers” who didn’t give her enough time as a child, and are now refusing to give her enough space.
At the end of our lives, we will not be counting figures in bank accounts, nor looking at trophies and awards. We will be packing the memories that will accompany us through eternity.
Our family may not be everything we want them to be, nevertheless, they are everything that truly matters.
